CHAPTER 6: WHO DID THIS?

Kalisa moved through the dim streets with her coat wrapped tight around her. She had planned to get to the drop site where she had hidden Don Khan's wallet and retrieve it. 

She was almost at the drop site when the shadows shifted.

A voice, deep and commanding, sliced through the still air.

 "Stop."

She froze, her heels clicking to a halt. Slowly, she turned.

Don Khan stood there, flanked by two of his men. He looked every bit the predator, calm, confident, and impossibly lethal. But it wasn't just the power radiating off him that shook her, it was the resemblance. That same smouldering intensity Caleb had. Only… colder, harder and seductive in a far more dangerous way.

"You took something from me," Don Khan said, his voice low and measured. "Something you shouldn't have touched."

Kalisa tilted her head, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Don Khan gave a small nod. One of his men stepped forward without hesitation and grabbed her arm. Another began patting her down.

They searched, but they found nothing on her. She sighed as she shrugged them off.

Kalisa's jaw tightened. She hated being touched like that, but she kept her composure. Then, slowly, she turned her eyes to Don Khan and took a step closer, until she was in his space. She leaned in, close enough to let her breath brush against his ear.

"Unless you want to search me yourself…" she murmured, voice silk over steel, "I'd suggest telling your dogs to back off."

Don Khan didn't flinch. Instead, he looked her dead in the eyes and smiled, devilishly, almost amused.

"You're bold," he said, with a voice like gravel and fire. "But foolish."

His fingers came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear with surprising gentleness. Then he leaned in, his mouth grazing just beside hers, not kissing, but close enough to tease.

"I'll forgive you," he whispered, "for not knowing whose pocket you picked."

Kalisa's breath hitched.

"But if you want to stay alive," he continued, backing just enough to meet her gaze again, "you'll hand over my wallet."

Kalisa's pulse raced. She could lie, fight, run, but one look in his eyes told her this man didn't play games. At least, not ones she could win. Not yet.

Her voice was calm, but her spine straightened with defiance.

 "Maybe I took it. Maybe I didn't. But if I did… maybe you should consider what else I'm capable of taking."

Don Khan grinned wider now, dark amusement lighting his face.

 "Careful, darling," he said. "You're playing with fire. And I burn hotter than most."

Then he turned to his men. "Show her a little something," he stepped back, smiling.

The first man threw a punch directed at her stomach. Kalisa's instincts aroused. She swerved and dodged the blow before it could hit her in the same spot where she had been shot.

She recognised the guard.

The same guard who had shot her.

In one swift move, she turned and took him, jerking him to the ground and dislocating his shoulder. 

The other guard rushed at her, but was not quick enough to see the sidekick to his stomach, followed by an uppercut. 

The guard passed out.

Don Khan clapped as Kalisa stood in front of him.

"Hmm, I can see you've got skills."

Kalisa fired back. "You need better guards."

Don Khan brought out his gun, and Kalisa stepped back, but Don pointed the gun at his guards, who were on the ground in pain.

Blood splattered the wall as the two guards finally collapsed, Don Khan's shots echoing like thunder through the narrow pathway. Smoke curled from the barrel of his gun as he turned, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

Kalisa hadn't flinched.

She stood tall, body coiled, adrenaline in her veins, but her heart skipped when he grabbed her very roughly.

The cold metal of the gun pressed against her temple, his arm wrapped tight around her waist, pinning her to him. His breath was hot against her ear.

"You think this is a game?" he growled, his voice low and terrifying. "You stole from me. From Don Khan. You've got one chance, Kalisa. Give me what you took… or I'll paint this place with your blood."

Kalisa didn't blink. Her lips curled into a wicked smile.

"Go to hell," she whispered, and then she kissed him.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was a violent, scorching kiss—a collision of chaos and heat. And for one breathless second, Don Khan didn't move.

Then came the sound.

Whoop whoop.

Sirens.

Close.

His grip loosened, and his head snapped toward the street.

"Shit."

And just like that, he was gone.

The form of him vanished. No trace but the bodies on the ground and the sting of where he'd held her.

Kalisa gasped and dropped to her knees, hand clutching her side. Blood. Pain. She didn't even remember when he'd struck her, but it burned like fire now.

She had seconds.

Pushing through the pain, she dragged herself toward the back of the alley, slipping into the shadows as the red and blue lights spilt across the brick.

Tires screeched. Boots hit the pavement. The police were everywhere.

She was gone.

Kalisa barely made it through the door before collapsing onto the old couch. Blood had dried along her side, her breathing ragged. 

She could not retrieve the wallet from its hiding spot. Don Khan and his men made sure of that. Her vision was blurred, but she'd barely made it home.

Lisa gasped when she saw her daughter and rushed to her side, cradling her gently, panic tightening her features. But before she could say much, there was a knock, quick, firm, familiar.

It was Detective Caleb.

Lisa opened the door, her face pale. "She's in her room," she said softly. "She's hurt bad."

Caleb didn't wait for permission. He stepped past Lisa and strode down to her room, heart pounding, unsure what he'd find.

He opened the door.

Kalisa lay curled on the bed, one hand pressed against her side, the other barely holding the wallet. She looked up at him, weak but defiant.

"Kalisa," he breathed, eyes scanning her injuries. "What the hell happened?"

She smirked through the pain. "You should see the other guy."

"Dammit." He moved closer, crouching by the bed. "You need a hospital." Now."

Kalisa winced as she shifted slightly, stubborn as ever. "No hospitals."

"Kalisa…" sighed Detective Caleb

She turned her head, her voice hoarse. "Do you trust me?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I want to. But right now, I just want you safe. Let me take care of you." Detective Caleb said

Kalisa turned her head slightly towards Caleb. "I just need to rest and I will be fine."

Caleb was wondering why someone in so much pain could still be so stubborn. He went to the bathroom and poured some water, then washed his hands. 

"Hold on, I will be right back."

Kalisa wimped in pain. "Where are you going to?"

Not long Caleb came by with some stuff and started to take care of Kalisa.

"The stitches are broken. I am sure this was from the scene, the incident that left two men dead. You must tell me who did this."

The air in the room had turned out too tense. The silence between them shattered as Caleb slammed the bloodied bandage into the trash bin, his patience wearing thin.

"You think you can handle this on your own?" he snapped, turning toward Kalisa, who still lay on the bed, pale and trembling from the pain. "You won't even tell me who did this to you!"

Kalisa forced herself upright, wincing as she pressed a trembling hand to her side. "Because it won't change anything, Caleb!"

"It'll change everything," he shot back. "You need protection, Kalisa. I can get you that. I can keep you safe."

She gave a bitter laugh, her eyes sharp despite the pain. "You? Keep me safe?" She shook her head slowly. "You still don't get it. You can't protect me from these types of men.

Caleb stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "I've gone up against worse. You just have to trust me."

"That's the problem!" Kalisa barked, eyes wild. "I don't trust you." You don't know what kind of world I'm in now."

Caleb stared at her, stunned for a second by the bite in her tone. "You think I haven't seen darkness? You think you're the only one who's bled?"

Kalisa's breath hitched, then, with a sudden motion, her hand darted under the pillow. Before Caleb could react, cold steel pressed against his neck. His eyes widened in disbelief as he looked down at the small knife glinting just below his jawline.

"Back. Off," she said through gritted teeth, voice low and shaking with fury.

"Kalisa…" he said cautiously, his hands slowly rising in surrender. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm making it clear that I'm not some girl you get to fix," she hissed, her eyes burning into his. "I don't need saving. Not from you. Not from anyone."

"You're hurt," Caleb said, his voice calm but firm. "You're not thinking straight."

"I'm thinking perfectly," she growled. "You walk out that door and forget you ever knew me, or I'll give you a scar to remember me by."

They stared at each other, breath heavy and hearts pounding. A long, tense silence followed.

Caleb exhaled slowly, then leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not scared of you, Kalisa. But I am scared… of what you're becoming." 

The knife pressed against his skin as blood began to emerge.

"You should be scared of me," Kalisa whispered.